


Under the Rain

by Farstrider



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen, writing challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 08:30:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1380904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farstrider/pseuds/Farstrider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theme - Heroism</p><p>At the crash of the Exodar an Anchorite fears all is lost until he witnesses an act of heroism he cannot help but admire from a woman who seems even more out of this world they the Draenei themselves are.<br/>AKA How Jadira and Meloraan first Met</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the Rain

It was hell, or as close as he could figure. Hundreds were dead, hundreds more dying and wounded. Fires consumed half the ship despite the drenching monsoon like rains falling from an alien sky. The battle for the Exodar had been brutal but this… Meloraan's eyes dimmed at the very sight of the crash before him. It had been hours since he had been healed as quickly as the medics could, being one of the few in still good condition, before being sent off to find other crash sites and aid there. Staring at the view before him, parts of the ship in disarray, reactor crystals everywhere and the dead and dying…

" _What are you just standing there for_?" The tone was confused and in a tongue he didn't understand. Turning he looked at a Draenei woman, arm hanging broken and dislocated from the shoulder, blood pouring down her face from a gouge above her eye brow and one of her horns splintered and broken. She must have landed head first but was still standing. Her clothing was… wrong, it didn't look draenic at all. Her expression wasn't terribly normal for the situation either, not frightened or shell shocked… rather determined and a bit impatient. " _Look sunshine either help them or fix me, we got people to save_." She nodded to the bag he held; marked with a red cross, assuming he was a healer.

"Yes of course." He shook his head and went to her side, beginning to work his craft, the light coming to him in pulses, he was so frightened. She hissed as the shoulder relocated itself, moving it long before he would have liked. The moment her bones were rejoined and she could move the arm; she patted him on the shoulder and began to move off. "Wait, what are you doing?!" He grabbed at her but she was too strong and slicked with rain, she slipped right out of his grasp.

" _Thanks for the patch, pal, but I got work to do._ " And with that she was running up the hill, towards the burning part of the ship. Other soldiers stood around, trying to think of a good way to go in. He watched the still injured woman look around, then start covering herself … in mud? She gave a good roll, everything was covered and he feared she was insane but she stood up, soaked and covered in dirt…and ran right into the burning ship.

"Naaru preserve her…" he began to mutter, moving closer. The poor thing must have gone crazy or cracked her head upon landing. He moved next to a line of Harbingers and Vindicators, beginning a fire line to douse the flames, setting up a station with a few other healers. He had just begun to rise to look for something to cover the area to keep his patients dry when his first wounded was dragged and lain before him, a Draenei nearly twice his size, baring markings of a Harbinger and terrible burns.

" _More where he came from, sunshine_." He looked up aghast at the crazy woman, whose mud covering was becoming wet again in the rain. Some of her skin that was uncovered was scorched but… the mud must have taken the brunt of the heat. He could feel the light in her, and for an instant watched the ground around her shift in the light and sigils of a Vindicator altering the Light's aura, from the blue of shielding, to a bright flaring orange to ward off fire…and she was off again, covering a few spots she missed in the dirty, oil and toxin filled muck, then back into the inferno.

He began to work and time passed hardly without any notice, one body falling beside him after the next. Others aided him, and soon each wounded that arrived had tracks of mud or dirty hand prints on their body somewhere, being cleansed in the rain as others adopted the bizarre tactic. The rain was beginning to ease, and relief from the main crash site was coming in slowly, more healers, and more shelters for the injured being constructed with salvaged scrap and splintered trees and stone. He stood up and stretched, back aching and body tired. The first lights of dawn on their new world were coming and he hadn't slept fully since the night before the push for the Exodar.

He looked to the now burnt out skeleton of the part of the ship he'd been treating survivors from for hours. The flames were finally out, and crews were beginning to salvage what they could, bodies arranged off to the side, nearly out of sight of those who hadn't survived. He found himself walking over to look inside, having been relieved of duty.

His crazy, mud covered hero was sitting amongst the ruins, covered in burns, mud and soot. Some vindicator was talking at her and she had this utterly blank look on her face. He walked in, mindful of any spots not already trod upon, not wanting to step in someone's remains.

"Is there a problem Vindicator?" He asked. The Draenei turned to look at him and sighed, relieved.

"Yes, Anchorite. We found this one trying to set up a pyre, to burn the bodies. We keep trying to tell her to stop but it is like she doesn't understand us."

" _Oi... Sunshine what's he sayin_?" The woman asked, looking up at him as if he had the answers. How could she still be able to move looking like that, after such a battle, after such a long fight and the crash and hours and hours of rescue efforts?

"I believe she has head trauma, sir." Meloraan replied, moving to kneel beside the woman, hands slowly calling on the light one more time…Her hands reached up, taking his, stopping him. He looked up into not dull or exhausted eyes, but brilliant blue irises, full of some kind of deep rooted determination.

" _You should rest._ " She said, and though he didn't understand her words, her tone said enough. She reached up to brush some of his dirty blond hair out of his face before getting up. She looked at the vindicator with a defiance he hadn't seen… not since… _Him_.

Something in him, some broken part that remembered his last lover; the one who'd told him to be what his heart told him, who gave him the courage to lay down the sword and follow his passions for healing. He SAW that fire in this woman… and the part of his heart that died when his beloved did… began to beat again.

The vindicator was still trying to talk to her, but was getting nowhere. She seemed to take strength in his shouting, even though she didn't understand what he was saying… he was saying she couldn't do something… defiance, yes that's what burned in her. The will to do what could not be done. She marched away in long strides, despite her injuries. Ten minutes later she was putting together a roughly crafted shovel… soon after she was digging graves. It was high sun before she sat down across from him, handing him a canteen half drained of water and the majority of a piece of ration. She didn't say a word as she ate, or as he began to heal her. He said nothing when she fell asleep on his shoulder while he had her lean on it, to mend her back.

Her burns were mending well, her body hard and clothed in burnt cloth that looked to fit a man better. He tried to do something for the myriad of bruises across her sky blue skin but there wasn't much more magic left in him. Her brown hair was matted, still dirty from the mud and blood and gore, parts of it burned short. Her horns were a mess and would have to be shortened to heal properly, only one maintained the high regal curve the pair once had, and it too was split down a side. Her manner was rude, and her language harsh and grating, she tended to shout a lot. But now she was asleep, her breath on his neck was warm, smelling of smoke and three day old rations. She was snoring, maybe even drooling on his shoulder and he didn't know her name.

He'd never met someone so lovely…

\-------------------

She waited until he had drifted off, both leaning on one another in the middle of the make shift camp. The paladin smiled a bit, a smirk on her split and full lips. She had no real idea what was going on, she couldn't understand a damn thing. Her fingers reached up to rub at the old wound beside her left temple, the scar long and ragged from a time before she was who she is now. With steady hands she laid the male on his side on the ground, pulled off her baggy shirt to let him use it as a pillow. The tighter fitting sleeveless shirt beneath it clung to her curves, the silver dog tags around her neck clinking against each other as she moved. She was hot, sweaty and not terribly motivated to move much. She gave the male at her feet a long look, appreciating the view.

His skin was about the same color as hers, maybe a bit lighter. He had those weird tendril things sprouting from the side of his neck, they weren't too thick or too long either. She played idly with her own, behind her ears, wondered what the hell they were for once again. Unlike her he had no horns, just these spines that ran down along his head, some longer than others, all of them rather sturdy. She'd hate to bump into him from behind. The plates on his forehead made it look big, but his features were gentle, calm and kind. He was handsome, cute even. His hair was this lovely shade of ash blond, spiky and at the moment in disarray from constantly running his hands through it between patients. She'd been watching him every time she came back from getting more wounded, or just walking past. His body wasn't as large as most males, maybe a little on the pudgy side but there were muscles in there, and the way he had handled a few of the weapons belonging to the injured; he knew how to hold a sword but chose not to, holding tight to his mace and prayer book. The fingers on the arm he had mended for her flexed, moving slowly due to residual ache from the fast mending. She might not be able to use it the same way she had before she arrived wherever she was. Gently, cautiously, she tucked some of his hair behind a pointed ear, smiling wider when he sighed and muttered something in that weird language of his.

With a sigh the soldier woman got up to her feet and went to go find some more wreckage material to make a small shelter. It'd rain again, and soon, she could smell it on the wind. He took care of her and Jadira always paid back her debts. She glanced back at him before she moved off… wouldn't hurt to get on the good side of a handsome fellow like him either, she mused. He was the first of her own kind to treat her with some kind of respect… it said a lot in her books. With a shrug and a playful smirk on her lips she wandered off to take care of her mission so she could watch out for the man who watched over her.


End file.
